


thing

by osvelit



Series: the samuel things [1]
Category: None - Fandom
Genre: Fire, Guns, Idk bro there’s a lot, M/M, Magic, Nonbinary Character, Spaghetti Western Meets Merlin Meets Die Hard, Swearing, Sweat, THERES AN ASS TO MOUTH TAG FJSMFMWMFMSK, There’s no gay tag this is bullshit, graphic depictions of muscles, lotta that too, theres a lot of those lmao
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-02
Updated: 2020-04-02
Packaged: 2021-02-28 20:41:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,229
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23443381
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/osvelit/pseuds/osvelit
Summary: thing i wrote with some characters i made a while ago. it isn’t good, i’ll probably rewrite it
Series: the samuel things [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1686520





	thing

**Author's Note:**

> warning: this is dogshit

'Pain is for the living.' I was told that, once before. It was a strange thing to hear as a child, it didn't quite fit into my limited, joy-riddled understanding of the world. I had frowned and bounded off, choosing to play elsewhere, away from my nice but sometimes creepy guardian. The memory reverberated in my head like a hummingbird's wings as I knelt down in the sand and held my small, worn wooden hunting knife in my right hand. It was stout but sharp, made for gutting small game and fish. A soft gleam came from the blade under the moonlight, as if it were freshly oiled. Hadn't oiled the damn thing in years. A single line of reddened flesh dotted with the dark purple of dried blood slanted along the outer edge of my palm seemed to jump out at me. Daring me to do it like a miniature version of the feeling you get standing close to a high edge. It's hard, hurting yourself. Everything in your body tells you to fuck off. Irrational fear hijacks your thoughts. Lizard brain, beware. Dumbassery inbound. I huffed, and slit at the small wound again, cutting cleanly and neatly through old and new blood, and reddened flesh. The pain wasn't intense or hot or even surprising. If you injure yourself intentionally of otherwise, there's a shock associated. "The moron actually did it", your body would say. My body had gotten over it the first few dozen times. It glanced at my cut, grunted, and said "Meh." Probably said something unhealthy-like about me. I stared at it, mouth jutted to one side in consideration. The words echoed again. 'Pain is for the living.' I was alive, intentionally so. Wasn't too much pain, but it was there. Dead things didn't feel pain. They had the luxury of eternal unfeeling, although that was likely a hell unto itself. I clenched the hand into a fist for a moment, forcing a bead of blood out. It resembled, to me, like the edges of a wax-sealed envelope. A message to reopen tomorrow. A small, almost unnoticeable flash of light sparked somewhere to my right, above the skyline. I flicked my head towards it, wary. The horizon was completely blocked by a wall of dark grey. As of now, it looked like clouds and a fog, but later it would be a blinding, raging, annoying storm of sand. Son of a bitch. How did that get there? I should have felt it. I frowned, wondering. It looked far away enough to come sometime tomorrow morning.

"You're still doing that?" A voice asked from behind and up, to my left. I turned and looked up at the face of my friend and stalwart ally, Marvin. Marvin's name didn't fit him. It was akin to putting a pillow case over an anvil and calling it comfy. He was a breath over six and a half foot, and built like a linebacker. Short, black hair, weather-beaten, yet still looking styled, sprouted from his head. Dust coated the right side of his face, a slightly stark contrast to his dark, caramel-esque skin. A dangerously handsome face was under the dust, coated even more liberally with confidence and good-natured humor. Hazel eyes, a touch orange under the moon, looked at me, free of guile but still with a twinkle of mischief. He was clean shaven. The only real mark on his otherwise perfect face was a scar on his left cheekbone, shaped like a rough diamond. More dust, with some dried mud coated the heavy ballistics vest, colored to blend with the sandy terrain. His pants fared no better, and aside from the beige kneepads he wore, they looked grimy and battered. Heavy and thick muscle seemed to flow from under the vest into the shape of arms, dust streaked in a few places from sweat. A rifle was held, aimed down and to the left, one hand on the grip, trigger finger tapping gently on the side of the gun in a steady, likely unconscious beat. There was a gentle strength about him, which seemed at odds with how he carried himself. A small, screaming part in my lizard brain shouted that I wanted him to do ungentle things to me. I blinked, and a wolfish grin formed on his face after a second, registering my stare. "Don't worry. I'm all here." I scowled, both at myself and him, turning back to look at my hand. I could almost feel his grin getting wider. "Of course I'm still doing it, you know why." I muttered. I heard him shift in place, effectively dropping the matter. Everyone had some kind of.. thing they did. Some had routines, a powerful, effective, and versatile tool in overcoming the tidal wave of shit they saw, and sometimes did. Routine normalized the abnormal. Most people drank, or trained harder, or took up a hobby. Marvin did origami. I repeatedly cut myself. Like I said, unhealthy-like. Marvin nodded back towards the house. "Erin wants a shield up. It isn't secure, or damage resistant, et cetera. You know how they are." I frowned. "Why not Avel?" Marvin smirked, then did his best impression of Erin's furious grimace. "'I need an 18 wheeler, not the Batmobile.'" I scoffed, unable to keep a smile off my face. This group was something else. We were Wards, the next best thing to 'Ghostbusters meets mercenaries'. Magic is real, spooky, shadowy monsters are real. Things that tear off faces and things that don't have faces, all the good and bad of the supernatural, is real. The unnatural, the aforementioned abnormal, was just as dangerous as it was real, and, to quote Hellboy, when things go bump in the night, we bump back. If the price is right. It was a party of 12, a businessman and his attorney included. Two 'practitioners' aka me, and Avel, two medics, mages who specialized in healing, and five gunmen, and a shot-caller. Erin is our shot-caller, a dangerous inferno of intelligence and authority, and a fierce warrior. I didn't think any other terms did as fine a job describing them, other than 'Captain'. Marvin was one of the five gunmen, although he felt more like a knight to me. The one in shining armor and dashing good looks. Avel was the other battlemage of our retinue. Serious, fast, and five and a half feet of capability. What he lacked in power, he made up in versatility. Two of the gunmen were new, Herman and Garrick. They seemed alright. Herman was a little twitchy, inexperienced, even, which wasn't altogether bad, but he'd have to smooth it out or die trying. Garrick was unremarkable to me, shaven head and dark eyes. I didn't know if we would ever bond, but he seemed solid. Carried himself well. Saul and Hemeo were our medics. Saul was an unrelentingly, even annoyingly nice guy, which struck me as odd in our line of work. He was patient and calmhearted, and very easy to talk to. I guess being a medic had something to do with it. Hemeo was a bit fiery, a wiseass even, but she was extremely capable at making sure your insides didn't become, or stay, your outsides. Anthony and Selio were the last two gunmen. Anthony was kind of an asshole sometimes. Or maybe just an insensitive shit that loved to kill stuff. Is there really a difference? Selio was personable, and also a damned good cook. Conjuring up food is pretty easy, but it takes some talent to make it good food. 'A dash of love'. Currently we were ferrying the deluded businessman and his equally deluded attorney through this damned, horror-ridden desert somewhere in Nevada, and had set up in the near-crumbled remains of a house. Red brick with a single boarded window, desaturated under years of wind and sand, and stomach-churningly bare to whatever laid eyes upon it for miles. Four walls and a roof was good enough for the moment, but it was looking increasingly like we would have to stay long term, for a few days. "It's still gonna be a while before we can call for transport, or even advisement." I said, standing and turning to him. I was about an inch over six foot, muscular, but my arms didn't really ripple like Marvin's. I had more of a runner's build, wiry sinew and springy muscle. My face had a lightly square jaw, a shadow of a stubble over it, blonde hair that cascaded into green in the back. Sorta heavy eyebrows, the left blonde, the right the same shade of green as my hair. An unhappy side effect of magic was that your hair changed color to the whims of the magic you threw around. My hair was naturally blonde but green was in season apparently. My cheeks were defined but not sharp, and a faint coat of dust and sweat covered it all, as it was wont to do. My nose looked average, if not a little small, and my eyes were blue. A scar stretched from the right edge of my cheek to the middle of the bottom of my chin. A similar, albeit smaller vest covered my chest over a gray shirt, effectively strapped with the same gear as Marvin, sans the rifle. I didn't have more than my sidearm, a .44 slinging revolver that hung by my side. It was more about simple construction than anything. You'd be surprised how often guns jam around magic. Marvin frowned. "Why's that?" I jerked a thumb towards my left. Sandstorms and the sand they carried were laden with magical energy. It plays havoc on machinery, something about electrons and quarks and them going places they shouldn't. That, combined with sand, which loved to worm into any crack and crevice in sight, made any sandstorm the natural disaster equivalent of an EMP. He looked out over at the approaching sandstorm, frown turning into surprised frustration. "Damn it. Didn't even notice it." I furrowed my brow, nodding. "It's weird that we didn't. Avel would have said something too." "What do you think it is? Should we leave?" I shook my head, "I'm not sure what it is exactly, but we probably shouldn't leave the only shelter we've seen in days right before a storm. I should put up the shield. Can you get Avel to cover?" Marvin nodded, looking serious, and shifted uneasily. A small half smiled curled up the right side of my face. "At least the ghouls can't get us." Marvin scowled, perfect face twisting into a grimace. Ghouls were damn spooky. Think of a zombie but without the pretense of moaning to tell you their location at all times, fast reflexes, and a low but apparent intelligence. Not a '3 year old' type of intelligence, a 'lion stalking it's prey' type of intelligence. They hunted in packs, and could be a real threat in numbers. Marvin walked away to get Aven, and likely tell the others.

Anyways, my name is Samuel, Sam for short. I'm a battlemage with more power than sense and the hots for a soldier boy who just closed the door to the only shelter for miles in any direction you chose, smack dab in the middle of a ghoul-infested desert right before a possibly supernatural sandstorm. This is not, unfortunately, a love story. A minute passed as I stood watching, feeling content from muted cold of the desert. I tended to run hot, probably magic related. I was eyeing the sandstorm when Avel came out, looked around and stopped in his tracks at the sight of it. Yeah, that's what I was feeling too. Confusion. I didn't like it, and saw him reach the same conclusion. After a moment he looked over at me, gave me a wave that I reciprocated, and walked further out to the desert. Out here, we could afford one-man watches. Very little could sneak up on us, so long as we were mages. Anything invisible just looks vaguely distorted, the magic unfocused to us. An easy tipoff in an otherwise static background. I nodded to myself and trudged to the house. 

The inside was packed. Saul sat in a chair next to Anthony, looking unfairly serene, like he'd just had a spa bath and not the three day trek through sand we'd just undertaken. He gave me a smile as I looked, and I returned it. A single laptop lay open on a desk at the center of the room, currently being used by Erin, whose expression was a vicious slash between determined and fury. Their flaming red hair was cut short to their shoulder, and their vest was off. The steady clack of typing continued as I looked at the others. Anthony leaned on the wall near the door, arms crossed, sparing me no more than a glance. Herman was asleep, bags zipped up to his chin. Garrick was reading a book, the name of which I couldn't make out. He saw me and tilted his book in a hello, before going back to it. The businessman and his attorney sat in chairs, tired but quietly going over businessman and attorney things. I didn't bother to listen. Selio was out cold, sprawled in his bag, soft snores emanating from his corner. I didn't blame him. If anything, I envied him. Sleep was hard in this desert. Those with magic usually found sleep in areas like this damn near impossible; even if the desert wasn't magical, millions, if not billions, of things had died in it, and pretty much nothing else changed. It was still the same hot, empty, unforgiving desert from fifty thousand years ago, with no human emotions to cushion the blow. Further, while this desert wasn't a complete hotbed, it had all that time to store and disperse life energy within itself. If this sandstorm was natural, sleep would basically be impossible. I wasn't looking forward to it. Marvin had sat down on the wall opposite the door, next to my bag, with Hemeo on his left, who was laid down and busy conversing something quietly with him, a smirk on her face. He had a frown on, until he looked up at me and shot me with that damned smile of his. A quick image of me and Marvin in a sleeping bag flashed through me, turning my cheeks red as I quickly turned to the wall next to me. Anthony scooted over as I touched the wall, giving me a sideways glance. I touched four outstretched fingers to the wall and focused, attempting to breathe steadily. Shields are hard, at least for me. They're tedious and require you to envision and cover fracture points and geometry and other mathematical stuff that I wasn't good at. My magic came from emotion, and that was what lent it more strength. Avel really should be putting up the shields, but we only needed something simple but strong for now. Make anything that wants to come inside want to leave, forcibly. The world dropped away into darkness as I closed my eyes, envisioning the four walls and roof and floor. Green light started to paint the surface I touched, worming and spreading from my fingertips to cover the wall. I fueled the spell with my recently obtrusive feelings for Marvin, and I felt the energy whisper out of me as the shield formed, spreading to the next wall, then the next, until it covered every part in a solid cube of energy. I retracted my fingers and opened my eyes, looking around towards Erin. I was a bit out of breath, feeling weakness in my arms and legs, and said. "Shield's up, sir." Erin gave me a nod without looking up at me, and kept typing. Marvin caught my attention and gave me two thumbs up. I squinted at him, then at Hemeo, whose smirk had turned into a grin, and walked over to my bag.

Once I settled in, I detached my vest, and rubbed my face with the least dirty hand. "What's it look like out there?" Hemeo said, sitting up. I cast a wary and weary glance at her. "Well, there's sand. Some sand, a little more sand, and a small side of sand." I looked ahead, sighing. "The main course of sand is tomorrow, though." Hemeo looked at me with a frown. "How'd it sneak up on us like that?" "I don't know, I've been trying to figure that out since I saw it. Doesn't feel good, not knowing. Especially here." The list of things that could make a 'covert' sandstorm wasn't very long, and none of them were good. All of them were major league dangerous. None of them were a good idea to face on the best of days, least of all here in this shack, surrounded by nothing but treacherous terrain. Marvin piped up. "Sure we shouldn't still leave, Sam?" "We need to know what it is first before we do. Otherwise we could all get got." Marvin frowned, trigger finger tapping again. Then, Hemeo gestured with her chin towards the door, and rose from the bag. I looked, and Anthony was standing straight, eyeing the door. The wind had picked up, ever so slightly. The sound of footsteps was muted until it was at the door, and Avel opened it, expression alarmed. Wind pushed sand into the doorway before he closed it, and he spread his hand over the wall where I'd put up the shield. A second later, I felt the hum of it's energy double with blue energy. Don't ask me how I know what color it was. It'd be like asking how someone knows how to smell. Avel's actions told me two things: one, the safest course was to stay inside, which narrowed down the already short list of potential offenders, and two, it was damned strong, and we needed to keep our walls up. That left two things. A spirit or a djinni. Spirits hit homes, places where humans lived and felt and experienced their lives like physical barriers, but empty, abandoned houses like this one lost their protective energy. The humans inside needed to be there, and have been there for a while. Thing is, my shield was physical; spirits could bypass those like they weren't there. Avel hadn't taken my shield down, but reinforced it with another layer. He wouldn't add another layer of physical shielding, it would be pointless if what we were facing was flesh and blood and had the strength to direct an entire sandstorm. They'd shatter the shields like thin glass the moment it threw a hard enough punch. So the second shield had to be spiritual. Djinni were both; the elements taken shape, pretty powerful in their homelands, which we were right in the middle of. I got up, and walked to open the door. Djinni couldn't do a whole lot at night; moonlight scatters concentrated magic and forces them to stay in caves or underground, or spread out enough to where it's unaffected, like, for instance, in the form of a sandstorm. I opened the door and looked out. The sandstorm had covered an unknown amount of miles in less than five minutes. Sandstorms are fast, but not that freaking fast. "Jiminy fucking Christmas," I muttered. Avel sagged onto the wall, having finished with the shields. "Yes, it's a djinni." I closed the door and looked down at him. Avel must have reached that conclusion when he saw it move. I turned to Erin, who was looking at me with what I would describe as flaming concern. Everything about them seemed fire related to me. Sometimes themes get stuck to people in my head and I can't undo it. "Report," they said, with utter authority. Everyone was awake then. I spoke aloud, so everyone could hear me. "There's a djinni heading our way, in the form of a sandstorm. We can't leave, and communications will be down until it isn't near us. All we can do is wait." Erin's eyes narrowed, turning the intensity of their gaze from smite-worthy to mild immolation. Or maybe the other way around. "I'm assuming we can't fight it off." I shook my head immediately. "It'd blow us away pretty easily. Sand doesn't even glance at bullets, and nothing either of me or Avel can throw at would do more than inconvenience it. Not here, in it's element." Erin nodded, then looked forward into the middle distance, lacing their fingers together. The fury side of their expression won over for a second, and the room seemed to get hotter. Avel, Saul, and Hemeo both reacted physically, moving to get more comfortable, and I felt a touch of rage coat my thoughts. Huh. I blinked a few times, clenching my teeth. I felt it grow exponentially, then the feeling died away completely. I looked down and saw my hand on my hunting knife. Going from wanting to smash something to normality was weird, and completely abnormal. I eyed the captain. They weren't a captain, technically, but it fit to me. Their expression was normal again, and they had turned to the businessman and the attorney, who were asking pertinent questions in worried tones. I was pretty sure the Cap wasn't an elemental, like most assumed, but a half-blood, one half human, the other phoenix. Half-bloods weren't rare, exactly, more uncommon than anything. Phoenix could take the form of humans, but almost never took human mates for, ah, physical safety reasons. Elementals were just element based mages, who worked and devoted time solely to that element. Aside from the fact that I hadn't seen them sling a lick of offensive magic which kept in line with most half-bloods, they also fit the physical and personality traits, and that on-the-go heater trick wasn't how elementals worked. They could do it, but way more slowly; humans aren't naturally tuned to elements like that. It takes time or something supernatural to make that connection. I could ask, but honestly, I was afraid. I'd never gotten a sentence out of them that wasn't mission related. The most I knew about them outside of that was that they had a penchant for martial arts, which was completely normal for any of us. Erin flicked their eyes at me, and I swallowed and felt myself sweat, realizing I'd been staring while in thought. I looked away towards Marvin and focused on his stupidly great face, which was looking at me, puzzled. I walked back over to my bag and sat down, exhaling a breath I didn't know I was holding.

Everyone felt on edge, and the businessman and his attorney looked at the roof nervously. The wind was growing in volume, and although they had been surprisingly calm earlier today, that was now out of the question. Suddenly, the wind died for a moment before the djinni hit us with a howling madness. Dust shook from the roof and the boarded window, wind screamed outside, thunder roared, threatening us. The attorney squeaked. The shields hummed as it hit, and I could feel some quasi connection forming to the djinni from them. I heard Avel groan and saw him reach a hand to hold his head, before it hit me. It wanted in. My breathing started quickening, and I scraped at the floorboard beneath me with my nails. It was primal anxiety. The elements wanted to rip me apart, to tear me down and give back what was rightfully the Earth's. An ancient bloodlust that sunk into me. I must've made some noise, because I felt Marvin's hand on my forearm. I shuddered once, before attempting to ground myself. The anxiety took a back seat as I reasserted reason. I wasn't the best at controlling my emotions, considering I used them regularly and indulged them very often, but I knew a few tricks to handling them if I ever needed to. Marvin is one of them. He can put me right or wrong with a word or a touch, and he knew it, and it was damned helpful. My breathing slowed, and I closed my eyes, focusing on my emotions and piling them up like duffel bags of money, put away for later use. It was an effective way of gathering energy and calming myself down. After a minute or two, I opened my eyes, breathing normally. Marvin retracted his hand, and I muttered a thanks. The howling remained, but the anxiety was gone now. It was just spooky ghost wind now. Cliched spooky ghost wind, too. Avel moved over to us, sitting upright over his bag, and crossed his arms. His expression was stony, if a little grim, like he'd just been told his car had been totaled. Hemeo had pulled a phone out and had headphones in, focusing on the song. Probably a smart idea. I started to come up with something to do when Marvin's hand rested on my forearm again. My breath caught in my throat and my heart did a loop before resuming pace at doubletime. It felt hot, like a furnace. I gulped and looked at him. Worry intermingled with a smile coated his face as he looked at me, then at the roof. I saw his adam's apple bob as he swallowed. I didn't see him nervous very often. I turned my arm over and took his hand in mine, and looked forward. Heat coated my face as he looked down at it, then at me, then back at the roof. I was holding hands with Marvin and he was.. completely okay with it. A small breath escaped me in disbelief. I know, laugh it up. Holding hands got me flustered. Really though, there is a very deep and primal comfort in being touched, in knowing that someone else, someone close to you, wants to be touching you. All your worries and insecurities that much closer to being known and accepted by someone else who still stayed. It was exhilarating and it made me happy. The fact that it was Marvin made it that much better.

'Why are you allowing your emotions to control you so much? Aren't you a hardened mercenary, Sam? Where's the stoicism?!' some have asked. The long short of it is that stoicism is for wusses. I wear my heart on my sleeve even if others won't. I also kind of need to be in regular contact with my emotions to, y'know, survive. My magic is dependent on it. Going stoic would be a threat to my life, to put it another way. In general, the whole stone faced standoffish macho merc scene died off when it became very apparent that openly crying mages could level two story buildings with relative ease, so that was a plus. 

Marvin's hand tightened around mine, nearly crushing it. I looked at him, and whispered, "They'll hold." He looked at me sideways for a moment, then nodded, relaxing somewhat. It wasn't easy for him, the helplessness. He wanted to go out and smash the thing, and he couldn't. Nobody here could, not with what we have on hand. Djinni are ancient 'guardians' of their elements, aka big bullies, but they were powerful. It took sizable prep to take one down, planning and preferably a lot of flashy ordinance. We only had two tired battlemages, a cook, and two extremely skilled healers. Maybe we could do something with planning? Doubted it. Although I'm not exactly the cerebral cream of the crop when it comes to magical theory. I turned towards Avel, hyperaware of Marvin's hand in mine. "If all of us, me, you, Hemeo, Saul, and Selio, all pooled our resources, could we come up with something?" Avel looked at me, then forwards, then tilted his head in thought. After a minute, he said "Probably not. We'd need to find some spell that resonates with all of us. You being a passonus makes it pretty limited. None of us have the power to fuel any of the spells that would work to get a djinni to leave." He looked at me. "Short answer, no. Better to wait it out then to chance it anyways." I found myself agreeing. In magical theory, there are two generally accepted schools of teaching, passonus and intellectus. Emotion and rationality. Spells usually were capable of being done by both, but drawbacks were inherent to the nature of either teaching. With passonus, there was more raw power but less finesse, and vice versa with intellectus. Working together though, that would require a spell to be flexible enough to work with both. I clenched my jaw as anger grew in me. This job was getting unnecessarily difficult the farther we went in. Flying would be difficult at best and dangerous at worst even without all the ghouls. All manner of technological mishaps would arise, and a plummet out of the skin would squash everyone flat and mushylike. Driving was our best bet, and we managed that for a while before we ran into a lot of ghouls that fried the shit out of our transport. We had enough provisions for a week, but we'd been stranded for few days as a result of the ghouls. HQ would expect something was up and would investigate, but that would be within the next few days to a week, when we were supposed to return back. I was hoping that b-

The howling stopped. It was unnervingly silent. I looked around and got up, pretty much like everyone else. Threats don't just disappear like that unless they found another tactic. It didn't peal off either, or wind down slowly. It was just gone completely from one moment to another. I glanced at Marvin, who wasn't sure what to make of it like pretty much everyone else. I said aloud, "What time is it?" Half a dozen people checked their watches, but Garrick had them beat. "3:21 AM." I frowned and looked at Avel, who knew more about djinni than I. He squinted his eyes. "Probably got tired of us. It expended a lot of energy covering that distance and focusing in on this place." Erin turned and looked at him. "Should we leave before daylight?" Avel opened his mouth before closing it again, then said, "I think so. If it truly is gone, we need to put distance between us and it come daytime." During the day, magical energies aren't afflicted with any specific dispersion, unlike the moonlight. The ghoul horde's presence would most likely attract it instead of us, allowing us to find shelter that wasn't so flimsy and potentially make contact. Erin nodded, then turned towards the door. We all held our collective breath as they moved towards it, opened it, and stepped outside. It shuttered close, not unlike a coffin. There was no sound for a second, not screaming or snarling of pain or wind. Marvin's hand felt tense in mine. Now, I'm not usually so apprehensive about facing dangerous and spooky shit, but djinni are on another level. They're... executive level. VIP. They're usually not swayed as easily as that one was by our shields. Either we got lucky or it was still out there. The door swung suddenly open, and Erin walked in. "It's clear. Everyone get ready, we're leaving immediately."


End file.
